Black cats can be any shape, size, or condition
But mine's like a panther
Sleek, slender, smooth
His hind strong like a dancer
He visits when he feels like it
And stays for as little or as long as he likes
I know neither where he's been
Nor where he's going
In that time though
He is mine
I bury my face into his fur
And inhale the comforting scent of his pelt
Stroking his flank
He nuzzles into me
As if I'm the only person
He has chosen to touch him
When he's not there
I see him in my mind's eye
Stalking fences at midnight
By the light of the moon
So fiercely he stares
He grows wings
And a beak
Like a raven in the night
When's he's not there
His traces evaporate
Although my hands have held him
He dissolves
He is, without being
My black cat
He is, without being
My mind's midnight corvid
My black cat
Won't you leave me
A little something
To remember you by?
Not a trace, he purrs
Not a trace
And disappears once more
Sinking into his darkness
#CapturedInWords
I have a terrible habit of never finishing what I set out to write and you know what? That’s fine. For me, writing is a progressive, evolutionary act and so I try to publish in short, first drafts to give myself less of a hard time and the freedom to capture whatever I feel at a given time.
You can follow along on Instagram with the hashtag. I’d love it if you added your own, too.
